RPlog:Out of the Frying Pan
Daybreak at the makeshift camp set up by the marines had come with a most unpleasant surprise - nearby frantic animal calls as a rancor went about locating its breakfast. Its prey had unfortunately chosen an escape route that took it near the camp, making packing up and moving out a slightly more urgent necessity than it probably should have been, given the presence of injured persons. Hopefully no supplies were forgotten in the rush to escape. Getting away from the tall forest does bring one advantage, however - across the grassy plain that now stretches out before the marines and their rescued pilots, a little blot can be seen. An X-Wing-shaped blot. Leyanne sways slightly under her two packs, blinking blearily out over the plain. The bandage on her forehead has been changed and a few other minor cuts redressed, but she still seems mildly concussed as the hump out of camp. And so it is by this X-Wing-shaped blot that smoke arises, though from the ship itself, or another source is hard to say from such distance. For, upon landing, the pilot of the X-Wing, Lance 'Wildman' Corbet, has seen no less than a dozen ships come down after him, one of which an extraordinary sight in that a CR90 broke apart, scattering debris everywhere, even a couple pieces coming to rest somewhat near his own vessel. In the hours since, the young man had managed to build a fire, which is shielded from the oncoming group of survivors. Leaning back against the ship's hull, the fire before him, Lance remains huddled in a blanket, shivering against the harshness of the environment. A few bites of the rations, and that is all the young man has eaten, for who knows how long he will be trapped upon this desolate chunk of rock. Trooping along with the rest just long enough to make sure they were on their way fine, and listening to the noise of the hunting rancor, Wrista pauses. She waves a couple of the larger marines over, and quietly discusses with them while they walk, finally taking off her pack and handing it over to them to trade off carrying, temporarily. She then trots up to the head of the line of marines, where she again has a short discussion, and then whistles, and waves Leyanne up the line. "Corporal Zion!" In stark contrast to the forest, the plain seems very quiet, save for the X-Wing and occasional chunks of larger debris that have stabbed into the planet's surface. There is some wildlife around, but it's all quite uninterested in the New Republic's affairs and gives the marines a very wide berth. Those trekking across the plains seem to be in for a quiet, uneventful trip. Behind Lance's X-Wing, there is a quiet rustling. Turning slowly toward the rear of the Group, Leya, cranes her neck searching for who called her. "Yes Lieutenant?" Walking back to the rear in the direction of the Twi'lek, she breaks into a trot, but slows again as the pounding seems to jar her already tender head. "Yes Lt. Ipex?" Stopping in front of Wrista, she clutches to her pack straps to steady herself before offering a salute. It takes some moments, but finally, Lance hears the rustling above the crackling of the fire, and his head shifts to the side. Listening cautiously, a shifting is made beneath the blanket, ere a hand emerges, his Blaster gripped tightly. Eyes roam about, not forgetting to look upwards, though other than this, he makes little movement at first. Indeed, it is not until he is certain he can shift without drawing unwanted attention that he moves more than to draw his blaster. Shedding his blanket, Lance turns about, blaster held upwards, pointed towards any creature that may come from that apex. However, soon, he begins slowly, as quietly as he may, to slide about the X-Wing towards the tip. Intent he is on discovering the source for the rustling, and determining if confrontation of flight might be the best option. The source of the rustling is difficult to miss. A brown, quadrupedal reptilian creature, four foot tall at the shoulder, about that long from the tip of its boxy head to its stubby tail and sporting quite an underbite, is peacefully grazing on the grass in the shade of one of the crashed craft's wings. It looks up at Lance and tilts its head to one side, chirping. It seems to be alone. Wrista waves vaguely at the salute. "Relax, Leyanne. I need to go have a look around. Since it's fairly quiet, I'd like to see how you do with a little light command work. The march is under your supervision. Just keep everyone headed for that crashed X up ahead. The Sergeant here," she gestures to the man she'd been talking with, "...will give you a hand if you need it, but I have every confidence you'll do fine." Plus, it'll give Leya something to focus on, so the effects of the concussion won't get too bad. Leyanne nods curtly as she lowers her salute. "Yes ma'am." Turning slightly, her neck moving stiffly, she nods to the sergeant as well before making her way halfway back up the line. Pumping her arm, fist clenched up and down by her head she calls out over the group. "Alright move-em out!" Cradling her rifle at the ready slightly off her chest against the sling, she moves off into the tall grass, staying in the middle and off to the side of the group. Watching this interesting creature as it grazes, Lance seems to relax somewhat upon seeing it eat grass. The head raises, and it looks towards him, and the young man known as Wildman chuckles softly at it's reaction. "Feel free to graze." he comments softly, lowering his weapon. "I'm not going to eat the grass." And for a few moments longer, he watches. The critter seems to like this answer. It gives a distinctly happy-sounding trill before returning to its grazing. It casts the occasional look back towards the pilot, stubby little tail wagging curiously. Wrista throws Leyanne and the Sargeant a thumbs-up, and then vanishes into the grass in another direction, ranging out to do her "Scout thing", as people sometimes like to call it. As she re-sadjusts the color of her camo parka and goes from visible to I-know-she's-out-there-somewhere, it's not very hard to figure out how she picked up "Specter" or occassionally "Ms. Spook" as nicknames during her Academy days. A ways ahead of the marines and off to one side, there is a rustling. It's much louder than what Lance heard by his ship, however, and is accompanied by a loud, gutteral croon as a massive creature wakes from a nap and lifts its head up over the tall grass. It's brown, reptilian, and its boxy head is roughly ten feet long. The creature happens to be on the side of the group Leyanne is walking on. Bringing her rifle around to bear on the noise, she pauses mid-step as the brown thing raises up out of the grass. A flurry of activity ensues as the rest of the group paints the creature as a target, waiting to see what it will do. "Hold fire." No audible response comes to the creature's croon. It begins to haul its massive bulk back up to its feet, a solid forty feet tall once it's finished, and gives a louder trill as it whips its head around to survey the area. Its gaze falls upon the marines and it lowers its head, nostrils flaring as it peers at the group. Leyanne clicks the safety off her weapon, the whine of the charge going through being echoed behind her. Taking a step back and to the side she kneels to ensue none of her fellows accidently paint her as a target. "Hold fire, lets see if it goes away." Looking up at the massive creature she makes do sudden moves to encourage, or frighten it. Kaylen is just kinda there, for the time being. Basically trying to cut his teeth. His weapon is tucked firmly into his shoulder, but the muzzle is down towards the ground for the time being. Keeping silent, he just watches the critter do its thing for the time being. A rush of air shoots from the creature's nostrils in response to the chorus of whines from the marines' weapons, its mouth opening in a snarl. It has teeth, big ones, but none that look particularly sharp. Standing up slowly, Leyanne lowers her weapon, peering closely at the animal's mouth. "Appears to be an herbivore. Let's proceed, slowly." Pumping her arm up and down again, keeping her eyes on the great beast as she walks backward to keep it in sight. "Move out." Keeping her weapon trained down into the grass as she leads the group on toward the fallen X-wing. The massive creature seems satisfied when the group of marines begin backing away, lifting its head as it returns to its full, towering height. It turns to one side and takes a few heavy steps away from the group, giving another loud croon as it peers around the surrounding plain. The smaller creature grazing under Lance's wing suddenly lifts its head when the noise carries to them. Clumsily, it bounds out from under the ship and rears up onto its hind legs to try and see over the tall grass, giving an answering croon, albeit one at a much higher pitch. The big one's head whips around at the noise, staring directly over the marines and towards the crashed ship. Relaxing fully now, Lance begins to step back and away from the grazing creature. However, as the call is given, and this creature bounds away, and calls out in reply, Lance's head snaps about, searching for the source of the lower, louder call. Wildman's heart drops as he catches sight of the fourty foot behemoth, towering a distance away, yet close enough to pose significant harm should it decide to take out it's aggitation upon the young pilot. As of yet, the marines are not spotted, but they are bound to be seen before long. Leyanne turns her back on the larger of the two creatures after a few steps, giving her attention to the grass ahead of her and the downed ship in the distance. Whipping her head around to follow the crooning noises from the animals, she peers intently up at the larger of the two as it seems to look over them. "I don't like this." Kaylen glances at Leyanne, "Trust me, you're not alone." he says, gripping his rifle a little bit tighter, "There's a little more to this than there appears to be." glancing back over his shoulder at some of the other Marines. Staring up in awe at the rather large creature, Corporal Kayl'bre slowly...and a bit shakily...unslings his sniper rifle. The thing's big enough and he's close enough that it's no problem of hitting or not...the question becomes SHOULD he fire or not? Looking over quickly to Leyanne, he quips out, "Your orders ma'am?" Kaylen looks back over his shoulder at the Corporal sighting his rifle in, he shakes his head, "Hold your fire for the time being, Corporal. We don't want to provoke it until we know what its real intentions are." The more diminutive creature gives another happy trill, this time in response to seeing the larger one look in its direction. It gives an awkward hop that only takes it a few inches off of the ground, something it clearly isn't really built to do as its landing is heralded by a dismayed squawk as it tumbles onto its back. It seems unhurt, though, promptly wriggling back to its feet and shaking the dirt from its hide. With a loud grunt that almost sounds exasperated, the larger reptile repeats its call, bringing a foot down against the ground in front of it with enough weight to send a tremor rippling through the grass. It has enough force that a small group of birds take off in a flurry back near the forest the marines just left. "Corporal do not fire that rifle!" Leyanne barks like the best of the seasoned officers. Lowering her voice a bit she continues to watch the creature intently. "Lets see what it does." Motioning for the group to move out of the direct path between the two, she pauses as the tremor shakes the very ground she walks on. "Sith spit." Kaylen tries to shrug the tremors off, not letting them get to him too much, "I don't see why it would bother us as long as we stay out of its way." he tries to reassure, but not really being all that sure about the things intentions himself. Lance seems uncertain what to do. He watches the creature nearer to him as it struggles forth, and he even takes a few steps away from the X-Wing to get a better vantage point of the two. One obviously is the older version of the other, and quite possibly family. Yet, this does not stop Wildman from taking stock of the situation, and watching with a morbid curiousity. Nodding to Kaylen, Leyanne gives the signal to continue toward the X-wing. "Move on, but I want a few pairs of eyes on that thing at all times." Pointing to a few marines at the rear as she says this, she walks at an angle from the creature, keeping her own gaze pointed in that direction. The smaller reptile hangs its head when the tremor and repeated call reach it. It casts an abashed look towards Lance before it takes off towards the larger one in an awkward, long-limbed gallop. The group of marines in the area don't even seem to register on its proverbial radar, but that may be because the grass is taller than it is and too thick to easily see through. The larger beast simply stays where it is, though it does turn to put its flank towards the approaching cub even as it keeps an eye on it. The marines? They're ignored. Tarkis sighs to himself, quickly recognizing the familial link between the two creatures, as Bothans are quick to place high importance on their own families and clans, "...With all due respect Officer Morrell, Corporal Zion...that creature has seen us as intruders. I'm not sure if you two heard it, but I certainly picked up a faint high-pitched noise coming from the direction of the X-Wing...sounded almost like a lesser version of the noise the creature made. To continue the analogy, I would say that whatever is over there is the offspring of this...thing, which has now become quite defensive." The creature bounding off, and nothing happening to keep him there, Lance sighs softly, and begins to make his way back around the X-Wing towards his fire, though he keeps a wary eye upon the larger of the two creatures, the first lost within the confines of the tall grass. "Until one of these things offers you violence, you will curb the urge to light it up Corporal, is that clear?" Leyanne spares a quick glance to the bothan, making sure he did in fact understand her. "Unless Lieutenant Ipex tells us they are edible, I would rather not leave a trail of carcasses for the Imps to follow to us. Now move-em out." Continuing her own backward movement, she keeps her weapon trained at the grassy ground, her eyes scanning the plain and the retreating creatures. Cooler heads prevail. Once the youth catches up with the larger creature, the pair begin moving away from both the marines and the crashed ship, the smaller one having to bound along in order to keep up with the enormous adult's more leisurely strides. A ways ahead of them, two more heads the size of the adult's lift up over the grasses to lazily watch them approach. Herd animals. If it had become violent, it probably would not have been very pretty. Letting out a small sigh, Leyanne continues to divide her gaze between what's ahead and the creatures behind. "Let's pick up the pace a little people." Holding her rifle with one hand she fishes around behind her for her canteen, deftly uncapping it and taking a sip as she continues walking next to the group. Lowering himself slowly by the fire once more, Lance's left hand reaches below, grasping his right side gingerly. His head leans back, and he sighs softly, allowing his eyes to flutter shut even after the weapon had been replaced in it's holster. Silently he remains, slowly wrapping himself once more in the blanket to preserve warmth. Letting her canteen swing back down under her pack, the falleen grasps her rifle closer to her chest, picking up the speed of her own gait as encouragement to the others to do so as well. Gazing around at her grassy surroundings she pauses, turning to one of her fellow marines. "Take some scans of the area to check for any more local fauna. I don't want anything sneaking up on us out of this grass." "Nothing major on our scopes Ma'am, just those that we already saw." The young man stows his equipment as he walks, continuing on with the group. Nodding her understanding Leyanne, continues with her own visual scans of the area. Nearly within ear shot of the ship she gives a nonverbal signal to fan out around the debris and larger chunks. There's another, much quieter rustle of the grass, and Lt. Ipex all but melts out of the tall foliage, falling into step with Leyanne. "Any trouble?" the twi'lek asks her impromptu commander quietly, eyes roaming over the top of the grass around them, though with her height... not all *that* far over it. "I think we've got a live pilot up at the ship, but I can't tell for sure. Someone's over there, though." Leyanne indicates the negative with a quick shake of her head, her eyes barely giving away her surprise at the twi'lek's appearance. "Minor run in with the local fauna, but nothing of note ma'am. Nothing of note on scans either." Looking ahead to the fore of the group, her eyes flick over the hazy horizon. "That smoke has to be from a man made fire, the hulk would have stopped burning hours ago." Wrista nods agreement. "Or exploded. Good job with the Malklocs, Leyanne. They can be very territorial in their familial groups, like most herd animals." She thumbs over her shoulder. "Fortunately, that rancor that ran us off seems to have passed without incident and carried on elsewhere. From the looks of the trail, I think she was teaching her offspring to hunt." Shivering beneath the blanket, Lance's hands begin to rub along his sides, more tenderly upon his right, in an attempt to warm himself. Soft breathing escapes him in uneven breaths, and his head rises, looking at the flames, watching them, as though his very attention upon the fire could warm him in this situation. Leyanne nods slightly her gaze never leaving the trail. "I wasn't sure we were ok until it opened it's mouth, no sharp teeth. I figured that meant it wouldn't eat us." Cradling her rifle she glances at the twi'lek, nearly the same height, and grins. "I wasn't sure they were edible either so I figured it would be a bad idea to shoot one and leave evidence of our trail?" Wrista nods. "Good call. Though, herbivore doesn't mean they're not dangerous. Malklocs will be quite happy to trample even a rancor of they feel threatened, according to what data I could dig up. And they'll succeed, at least half the time, too. Sounds like you did exactly what you should have, though." She gauges the distance to the X-Wing. It's pretty unlikely that the Imperials would leave *one* soldier hanging around a crash site, so she brings her fingers up to her mouth and cuts loose with a shrill whistle to hail the... camp, of sorts. At the whistle, Lance once more stops, cocking his head sideways to listen. After a moment, however, he sighs, and stands up slowly. Yet again, his blaster pistol is retrieved from it's holster, and the young man begins to slip about the side of the X-Wing. Looking carefully, watching, he peeks about the ship in the direction of the whistle, blastertip leading. However, after some time scrutinizing those gathered, he calls out, "Who's there?" "I figured they were more likely to step on us..." Leyanne grins slightly. Craning her neck to look ahead to the X-wing as Wrista whistles. Cradling her weapon in the crook of her arm she looks at the lieutenant, waiting for her to reply. "The Peregrine, here to devour your soul," Wrista replies, loudly enough to carry to Lance, her tone wry with the reference to the old Corellian ghost legend. "Up and at 'em, pilot, calvary's arrived." At the familiar voice, and the command, Lance steps forth from the debris of his beloved Ghost Six. Nodding in greeting to the Marines, he reholsters his weapon once more, striding slowly forward, his left hand slipping once again beneath his jacket to hold his right side. "Lieutenant." he says as he approaches, casting a glance towards his X-Wing. "That's the second Ghost Six I've lost since becoming a Ghost..." he laments softly. Leyanne glances at the wreak, a small frown creasing her brow. Pulling her rifle close to her chest she peers at the pilot closely. "Sir you need a medic?" Slinging her pack off her shoulder, she kneels down and digs around for a moment. "I have bacta cream and some bandages." "Anything you can walk away from, Lance. It's good to see you." Wrista waves Leyanne toward the pilot. "Give him a look over til one of our medics catches up." Whether Lance thinks he needs to be checked or not, someone's going to give him a medical looking-over. She then nods her head towards the crashed X-wing, turning her attention to the marne shuttle pilot that's with them. And somewhere in all these grunts is Raxis, but first things first. "Wilks. Take whoever you need and strip the fighter for anything useful. Powercells, communications, sensors especially, just like the shuttle." Much more business like than usual. This must be what she's like when the fecal matter's slamming into the rotary air impeller. Like... now. "Those would be great, thanks. Don't worry about the medic." comes Lance's reply as he watches the marines head towards his downed craft. Another sigh escapes his lips, ere he shakes his head, and turns back towards the Twi'lek and Faleen. "What are our casualties like?" he asks almost hesitantly, as though afraid to know the answer to his query. Leyanne stands up and moves forward confidently, bearing down on the pilot, her hands full of bacta and a few bandages draped over her arm. "I'm sorry Lieutenant, but Ipex scares me more than you do. I'm gonna check you over so if you could sit down and remove your jacket if you can?" Setting her things down on top of her pack, she kneels down and pats the ground where she wants him to sit. Wrista frowns at lance's question, perhaps confirming that the news is bad. "I didn't get a really good vantage point from the shuttle, but it didn't look good. The frigates all hove around to buy everyone else some time, but I don't know if any of the escorts got away." Sighing at the Twi'lek's words, Lance's head lowers somewhat at the news. "I see..." he murmers softly, and as though softened by this information, he immediately complies with Leyanne's request, using his left arm to remove his jacket tentatively. He obviously favours his right side as he shifts to and fro, lowering himself into a seated position where the Faleen had indicated. Reaching up to assist Lance in the removal of his outer garments, Leyanne pulls a survival blanket out of her pack. "Here, don't loose any body heat, we don't want you going into shock." Reaching forward, she untucks his shirt, probing his right side gently with cool fingers. "Did you hit the console?" The pilot's reaction to the news doesn't go unnoticed, and Wrista is disinclined to let it go unremarked, given everyone present. She draws herself up a little, tilting her head towards raxis, but her words are quiet and somber, rather than commanding. "Do not grieve their loss-- they chose the path they wished, and that path was to die that others might have a chance to escape. Well, it hasn't gone fully to plan, but we're not out of the running yet. The best memorial we can give Captain Racknar and the rest of the strike force that havent made it is to survive. Survive, hold out, and escape to safety as soon as possible with as many survivors as we can. There were lifeboats launched, i heard him order them to the surface before they turned the frigates. So there's a lot of people out there still depending on us to help them for their captains." She pauses, and looks out over the plains. "I intend to find as many as we can. If we have to spend the next three years here in a secret enclave, we'll pull this off. The New Republic doesn't know how to quit, and we're not about to prove that wrong if I have anything to say about it." "Right." comments Lance offhandedly, though there is grim determination within his gaze. This, however, is quickly erased as he grimaces at the movements Leyanne makes him shift in, and soon lets the Faleen woman treat his injured side, even as he wraps yet another blanket about himself. Leyanne pulls a small disinfecting wipe out of her pocket, opening it she unfolds it and gently wipes down the small abrasions. Spreading bacta cream on the little wounds, she picks up a few of the bandages off her arm and tapes them on carefully. "Any other pains sir? Even little ones?" Satisfied at the reaction to her impromptu speech, Wrista turns her attention to thanking a Marine that arrives with her gear she'd passed off earlier. she digs out the data display she had been using to coordinate the marines during the assault. It had had a feed from the capital ships' sensor net for most of the battle, and while she was only turning it on in short bursts to conserve the limited power cell, she had taken the time to triangulate what crashes and landing on the planet she had sensor data, and overlaid the locations on the display's stored maps of the planet. She takes some time studying the map, occassionally looking up to try and match the landmarks with what she can see before shutting the unit back off. Shaking his head, Lance adds to her previous question, "More like the bulkhead hit me." Grunting at the treatment, he again shakes his head. "No, no other pains. Just my side." And, indeed, the side is discoloured from the wound recieved thereupon. Leyanne nods to Lance as she pulls out a pen light. "I'm gonna check your pupils anyway alright?" Sitting up on her knees to look down in his eyes, she pulls his eyeylid open gently, shining the light along the edge. "Are you feeling sick in the stomach at all?" As the marine techs work on stripping the felled X-Wing and Leyanne tends to the pilot's wounds, the herd of malkloc plainstalkers - numbering over half a dozen adults, now that they can be seen - rise as one and leave the New Republic's people in peace, striding off towards the horizon as the trills and chirps of their young carry on the air.